


These streets

by Nejinee



Series: These Streets 'verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Sex, Beefy Bucky, Cop Steve, Humor, M/M, Police officer Steve, Sexual Tension, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: The life and times of Police Officer Steve Rogers and his dealings with the not so classy residents of his local precinct, including Bucky Barnes, the rough muscle with the dreamy blue eyes.





	These streets

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [These Streets 街頭巡警](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12711468) by [carolchang829](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolchang829/pseuds/carolchang829)



> FYI I don't know much about American police protocol. Everything in here I learnt from the TV and the internet.
> 
> Total fiction. ﾟ･✿ヾ╲(｡◕‿◕｡)╱✿･ﾟ

The car rolled up to the curb and came to a slow stop.

“So we’re doing this again?” Sam said, turning his head to the driver.

Steve put the car in park and smiled over at his partner.

“Every month. You get used to it,” he said. The engine rumbled to a stop.

“Man,” Sam sighed and unhooked his seatbelt. “Don’t they just learn?”

Steve opened up and got out the car. He made sure his radio was secured properly to his shoulder before slamming the car door. He leaned on the police cruiser roof and watched Sam slide on his sunglasses. “It’s tough, Sam. You gotta remember, this neighbourhood’s never had it good.”

Sam was clearly rolling his eyes behind those shades, but Steve didn’t mind.

The two of them ambled up the street. It was the warmest day so far, which made their uniforms a little too much to bear.

“Hi,  _Steve_ ,” a couple women cooed from their front steps where they sat, smoking.

“Ms. Anthony, Ms, Richards,” Steve nodded at them as he passed.

A couple kids pushed past, running down to the sprinkler on the Hayes’ dirty lawn that brought everyone out into the sunshine.

Sam snorted.

“Oh, are you back for those goddamn Ferris kids?” Mrs Whitaker garbled from her own dilapidated porch. “Yellin’ and music all day every day! It’s total shit!”

“Not today, ma'am,” Steve said as they passed. “But you call it in if you need to,” Steve went on and smiled at little Angie on her tricycle.

“Here we go. Six-ninety four,” Sam sighed.

“Gentlemen,” came a familiar drawl. Both men looked up the front steps of the old Fury home.

“Natasha,” Steve squinted through the sunlight. 

The infamous redhead was leaning against her open front door, the screen all scratched up and torn beside her. “You boys here for anything specific?” Natasha Romanov asked, eyes sharp, even if her posture was lax. Her torn jean shorts showed off her great legs and the grey tank top didn’t help much either.

“We got a blip on Clint,” Steve murmured, heading up the few steps. “Mind if we check on him? Parole says he never showed.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned.

“Barton!” she yelled into the house.

“Yeah?” came a hollow response.

“Did you miss your check-in again? You know Danny’s nervous every time you don’t show!”

A loud crash had Steve and Sam glancing at one other. “Mind if we come in?” Sam asked.

Natasha turned and eyed him. “You stay here. Don’t trust cops in my home. Not after that goddamn raid.”

Steve pursed his lips as she went inside to find her idiot boyfriend.

“Man, she is tight as a snare drum,” Sam huffed.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” Steve said.

Sam took off his sunglasses. “I _meant_ , she ain’t anything to mess with.”

“Nope,” Steve said, hopping down a few front steps to look over the street. “Smartest person on the block by far. She knows the law better’n most.”

“Practice?” Sam asked.

“Experience,” Steve murmured.  He watched Murdock across the street, tending to his weird, misshapen vegetable garden. It kept the guy busy. At least, for now. Matt had been busted with one of the most insane grow-ops Steve had ever seen, just a few months back. The only reason he was out in the world was ‘cos the judge took pity on him for being blind. It was a good game he played. Smart.

“Man, this whole block is a write-up,” Sam said.

Steve eyed the house two doors down and across the street; The one with the cracked and peeling paint and the lopsided front door. Nothing doing.  He chewed his lip.

“Okay, okay,” came Clint Barton’s voice. “ _Jesus,_ woman.”

Steve turned, eyes still caught on that old house before he focused on what was clearly another babbling story cooked up by one of Brooklyn’s sweetest, most genuine guys who also had a rap sheet as long as Steve himself.

“So, you see,” Clint Barton began, leaning against the front door. “Officers, officers. Let's rewind, shall we? You see, it started down at the K-Mart…”

 

* * *

“No, come on,” the perp cried as Steve wrapped him in cuffs. “Officer! It’s not what it looks like.”

Steve pulled him upright and opened the cruiser's back door. It was late, way past midnight and the Lowes parking lot was mostly deserted.

“Really, Lang?” Sam said, taking notes. “Come on now. You know the drill.”

“But I wasn’t doing anything,” Scott Lang huffed. 

Steve turned him about and pressed him to the side of the cruiser. “You were stuck halfway through a window with a bag of tools and a mask, Scott.” He cocked a brow at the plaintive look on the man's face.

Scott Lang pursed his lips as if to start arguing. “Damnit, Officer Rogers, you got such pretty eyes.”

Steve rolled those pretty eyes and helped get Lang into the backseat.

“Heads-up,” Sam murmured, closing the door he’d been leaning on.

Steve turned, hands going to his belt.

A familiar crew of teenagers was strolling by in the dim light of the parking lot lamps.

“Hey, Cap!” a voice cried out.

Steve smiled, “Hey, America,” he said, watching the group approach. “Isn’t it a little late for you all to be out?”

The tall girl with the riotous curls and mismatched sneakers grinned. “We’ve been working. Got a new job down at the craft store.”

“Really?” Steve asked, brows rising.

“Hey, just ‘cos we’re from the old hood doesn’t mean we can’t work retail,” Kate Bishop bit in. “I’m at the fancy drug store on Nostrand.”

“That place is _not_ fancy,” Billy Kaplan laughed.

Steve eyed the kids, aware that he should be asking a whole lot of other questions.

“What you got there?” He nodded at the heavy plastic bags.  Teddy Altman was holding a lot of something. The tall blonde just blushed. Still shy as a moth, that kid.

“Oh, we got a cool project. The old Barnes place, we’re helping to spruce it up,” America said. 

“You mean the graffiti wasn’t your best work?” Sam intoned sardonically.

America eyed him and stuck out her tongue. “Hey, _we_ didn’t do that. It was those fuckin’ assholes from the North side. Mr Barnes himself says we can help him, says he’d appreciate it.”

Steve licked his lips. “He did, huh? Well, that’s nice of you all to help.”

America shrugged. “It’s what we, the underprivileged youth of the city do. We bring light to the darkest sides of the world.”

“He’s paying well, too,” Kate cut in.

“Ah,” Sam nodded and held back a laugh. “Of course he is.”

“Hey, we gotta get going,” Teddy leaned in and whispered. “These cans are killing me.”

“Shh!” America hissed, pushing him aside. She turned back to Sam and Steve.

“You have yourselves a real nice evening, officers!” she cried, dragging her crew away. “Don’t stay up too late!”

Steve watched them all but run off gleefully.

“Ten bucks says they’re going to get loaded,” Sam said.

“Have faith, Sam,” Steve said. “They’re good kids.”

A tapping noise made Steve turn.

“Are we going, or what?” Lang’s muffled voice said through the backseat window.

 

* * *

“You’re so soft on them,” Sam said for the umpteenth time.

“I do my job,” Steve answered. He smiled over at Sam as the two of them made their second visit to the Fury house in as many weeks. 

Sam just groaned, “Yeah, you do. You’re amazing. But sometimes, Rogers, drug addicts can’t help themselves and you gotta step in.”

“He was caught high, not dealing,” Steve responded, speaking about one of their many local residents.

“Whatever,” Sam huffed. “Just don’t get your ass shot off because you looked the other way.”

Steve made a face.  He knocked on the door of the Fury home, remembering the times when the whole neighbourhood used to hang out here. This house was a definite mainstay in the history of this part of town.

Natasha opened the door. “Jesus, finally,” she said sharply. “I called this in last night. What took so long?”

Steve smiled and pulled off his hat. “We just got the note. Non-urgent, apparently. Figured we could swing by. You got tenant issues?”

The house was tidy, if a bit mismatched, creaky and old.

The floor still looked scuffed to hell and the sofa seemed about as ancient as the foundation, but Steve was glad to see it wasn’t in any kind of serious disrepair these days.

“Place is looking good,” he murmured, looking around. “From what it was, I mean,” he smiled.

Natasha smirked. “Clint’s handy with a nail gun when he isn’t falling down stairs every other day.”

“Hey,” Clint Barton appeared, sporting a new limp.

Sam eyed him quizzically, “What happened?”

“Oh, this?” Clint blustered, “I fell down the stairs.”

Steve and Sam just stared. 

“Or whatever,” Clint flapped his hands. “You’re not here about me, okay?”

Natasha folded her arms. “The satanic witch upstairs won’t move out. She hasn’t paid rent in two months and I can’t get her out of the house. Gave her notice and everything.”

“Plus she’s waving a fuckin’ frying pan around,” Barton appended.

“All righty,” Steve sighed. “Let’s go sort this misunderstanding out.”

 

* * *

“Ow, damnit!” Sam bellowed, pressing the ice pack to his brow. Their culprit was finally handcuffed and rattling around in the cruiser’s back seat. 

“Sorry, bud,” Steve said, looking him over. He winced. “Yeah, that’s gonna swell up real good.”

“Hey, I’m outta aspirin,” Natasha said. “I’ll go ask around, see who’s got.”

“Hey, uh,” Steve hopped up to follow her. He’d noticed movement across the street. Laughter and noise and such. It was hard to miss. “I can come with.”

Natasha cocked a brow at him, but kept walking. 

Steve followed her across the street. 

Murdock wasn’t home, so no dice. While Natasha asked in at the Jones household, Steve looked over at the neighbours.

Power tools littered the overgrown front yard and voices rose up with laughter.

America and Kate were leaning over a makeshift trestle table, painting long planks of wood.

Behind them was Billy up a ladder with a paint roller, Teddy holding the ladder steady.

“Hey guys,” Steve loped over to the low metal fence separating the properties. “Workin’ hard, huh?”

“Oh shit, it’s the fuzz!” America cackled, and waved a paintbrush at him.

“Oh no, run,” Kate said slowly, not looking up.

Steve smiled. He looked up at the old house. It was clear that a whole lot of the wooden siding had been sanded and stripped of a lot of the crusty old paint. Some pieces had been yanked off and were either being painted or replaced separately. 

He would have asked about more details when Bucky Barnes came around from the back of the house, two immense wooden planks resting on each of his sweaty shoulders.

Steve stood up and blinked awkwardly.

Barnes lowered the wood and rested it against the table before looking up, squinting.

Steve swallowed, noticing the way the sweat on Barnes’ skin highlighted the round curve of his strong shoulders and big arms. He was wearing a paint-stained tank top and faded, torn jeans.

Barnes tugged at his gloves and looked up just as Natasha came bouncing down the porch steps behind Steve.

“Oh, busy little bees,” Natasha purred.

“Romanov,” Barnes nodded. He tucked his dark hair behind one ear and peered at Steve. “Rogers.”

Steve nodded, “Hey, Buck.”

“You think you’ll have this all done by the time of the block party?” Natasha said, leaning over the fence.

“Block party?” Steve blinked down at her.

“Chill your chicken nuggets, Rogers,” she rolled her eyes. “We’ll start it late and we promise to not block off the whole street.”

“I’m–“ Steve began, but was distracted by Barnes hefting new planks up onto the trestle table, muscles bulging. “I’m not saying anything. You can have a party.”

“Pretty sure we don’t need permission,” Barnes intoned deeply.

Steve put up both hands. “Sure, sure.”

“Oh, hey, Barnes,” Natasha waved her arm. “We’re lookin’ for aspirin. You have any?”

Barnes squinted and put both hands on his hips. “For what?”

Natasha tilted her head. “Crazy McClaskey whacked Officer Wilson upside the head. Figured it’s the least we can do.”

Barnes just eyed Steve. “Yeah, okay. I think I have some. Come on.”

Steve did the neighbourly thing and walked around the plots and entered the Barnes yard through the broken gate. Romanov just rolled over the fence instead. She eyed Steve as he followed Barnes inside.

“I’ll stay out here, keep an eye on these monkeys,” she murmured.

Steve followed Barnes inside, impressed at how cool the air was inside the Barnes house.

“Uh, so you’ve been renovating, huh?” Steve said, and followed the man further into the depths of the old building. Sawdust covered almost every surface and the floor were a deep, dark grey instead of the old shiny and pitted mahogany. One doorway was hung with plastic sheets.

Barnes didn’t say anything, so Steve just kept following him. They came to the guest bathroom, the one with just a toilet and sink. Also clearly under renovation, judging by the way the medicine cabinet was leaning against a wall.

Barnes dug around in the cabinet before pulling out a small bottle.

“I got Tylenol. That do?” Barnes said, his voice dark and rusty. He held up the small container. Steve wrapped his hand around it, fingers grazing calloused, warm skin.

“Uh huh,” Steve murmured, licking his lips.

Barnes stared back, then pushed another lock of hair behind his ear.

“You on patrol or just looking for shit to disturb, officer?” Barnes asked, voice deep like a drum.

“Helping Natasha,” Steve answered. He bit his lip.

Barnes looked him over, head to toe, then smirked.

“Looking all pristine compared to me.”

“Really?” Steve responded. “I think you look great.” He blinked. “I mean, you know. Fine. Or whatever.”

Barnes pulled his bottom lip under his front teeth, thinking.

“We ain’t doin’ this again, Rogers,” he rumbled, though his eyes seemed to disagree.

“Doing what?” Steve murmured, heart kicking it up a bit.

Barnes pushed him then, big hand pressing along Steve’s abdomen, making his muscles clench. He grunted when his back hit the wall.

“I mean it,” Barnes rumbled against Steve’s ear, hand sliding to Steve’s hip. “Once was enough.”

Then he pulled away, leaving Steve panting and a little frazzled.

“It was more than _once,_ ” Steve called after him. He clenched the medicine in his palm. But Barnes was already gone.

 

* * *

Steve grunted, arms flexing, face covered, dripping in sweat.

“You trying to break something?” Sam’s face came into view upside-down over him. “You know you need a spotter when you lift.”

Steve huffed and lowered the barbell. Sam lifted it for him and Steve gasped out a breath while Sam put it back. 

“Seriously, Steve, be careful,” Sam sighed. “Why you all worked up anyhow?”

Steve sat up, drenched in sweat, his police t-shirt soaked.

“Nothing,” Steve rasped out, wiping at his face with a towel. “Nothing.”

Sam pursed his lips just like his mother and gave Steve the good ol’ Wilson ‘Don’t bullshit me’ face.

“I said it’s nothing,” Steve got to his feet, feeling the pain thrumming through his arms and chest. “Just thinking too hard, I guess.”

“Sure,” Sam said, watching Steve gather his things. “Sure.”

 

* * *

“Do we really wanna do this?” Steve huffed, sitting in their cruiser a couple weeks later. They could see the whole street before them, all set up under the dipping sunset.

“What? You think we don’t take it seriously? You heard what the report said. There’s some kind of deal going down, tonight.”

Steve rubbed at his hair, pushing his police hat back. “Yeah, but these kids, they don’t run drugs through here.”

“I know, they’re all good kids, yadda yadda,” Sam sighed. “But it’s not what they might not be selling. It’s who else is doing it behind them.”

Steve looked over at his partner, “You really think Pierce’s that dumb?”

Sam snorted, “That evil bastard? I wouldn’t put it past him to try scale back his operations through this old hood.”

Steve nodded. It made sense.

He watched a few of the locals setting up the old metal tables and laying out paper plates and food for everyone. 

“Hey, at least it’s just us,” Sam said, watching too. “It’s not Rumlow sittin’ here.”

That was a good point.

“And hey,” Sam turned to look at Steve. “How’d you get permission to block off the street like that?” He thumbed at the barricades.

Steve shrugged.“Called in a few favours over in city maintenance.”

Sam snorted. “You old sly dog.”

They sat a while longer, just watching everyone gathering for the night’s party. It was a really great community round here. Sure, it was dirt-poor and lacking in any kind of support, but it was home to Steve. It’s why he chose to serve and protect it.

“Think we can grab a hotdog or two?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, all right,” Steve hummed and opened up the door. He unfolded himself, leaving his hat on the seat. It didn’t help that he was in uniform, but what could he do? He _was_ on duty.

The two of them walked over to the crowd of folks enjoying the warmth left over from a long day.

“Hi _Steve_ ,” a few of the women cooed from their white plastic lawn chairs. Steve nodded awkwardly. “Ladies.” Mrs. Robinson waved her fingers at him while sipping lasciviously at a straw that probably wasn’t meant to be used that way.

“Man, _”_ Sam groaned, “Every time. How do you do it?”

Steve shrugged, unsure.

“Po po? At this party? _Really_?” one of the teenage boys griped.

“Hey, watch it,” Barton said, swiping at the kid’s ear. “These two’re all right.”

The boy scowled and moved along.

“Oh, is that Officer Rogers?” came a familiar lilt.

“Hey, Mrs O’Donohue,” Steve smiled, welcoming the hug and chaste cheek kiss from the old lady in front of him. “How are you?”

She made a face, “Well, I’ve been better.”

“Yeah, heard about the break-in,” Sam nodded. “Did you insurance pay up, by the way?”

She waved a hand at him, “No, heck, will they ever!” she hissed. “System’s made to bring us down, officer.”

“Hmm,” Steve pursed his lips. “I’ll make sure to check in on that case for you, ma’am,” he said gently.

“Oh, well, don’t bother yourself too much on my account,” she hummed. “Come! Get some corn. We got melon going here!”

“Oh, damn,” Sam said gleefully, “Short ribs, I see ‘em!”

Steve gave his partner some side-eye. “We’re on duty, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, mister party-pooper,” Sam said. “But ribs ain’t gonna ruin me. Sharp as a tack,” he pointed to his head and grinned wide. Steve chuckled.

Steve said no to any booze, but did partake in some of the fresh fruit and sandwiches.

“My, but you can certainly put it away,” Mrs. Delaney purred from her circle of friends.

“Big boy’s got a big appetite,” her sister hummed to match.

Steve almost choked on his sandwich, feeling flushed.

“Uhm,” he murmured around a mouthful.

“Aw, leave him alone, you old hags,” Natasha cut in, slapping Steve’s ass.

He widened his eyes at her in alarm.

She grinned and squeezed by.

The music had started up and folks were starting to shake it up on the street, good and proper.

“You sure you ain’t drinking?” Billy Kaplan said loudly, sipping at something, pretending he was some kind of adult.

Steve raised a brow. “You sure you’re old enough to drink?”

Billy made a hasty retreat and Steve was able to enjoy his snack while keeping an eye on the proceedings.

Eventually, Sam made his way back, crying out for joy.

“Oh, these ribs! This steak! Rogers, you have _got_ to try some.”

Steve rolled his eyes and acquiesced. “Fine, I’m gonna check the perimeter. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Sam nodded. They still had to keep an eye out after all.

Good tips were hard to come by and Pierce’s stupid crew were top priority for Steve. The man had been running drugs for so long it was endemic at this point and he had to be stopped. Eight months in prison hadn’t been enough and it infuriated Steve that the asshole got out, ready to ruin more lives with his shitty fentanyl-laced poison. It was hard enough for the folks round here to get off the drugs without having to find their loved ones crumpled up in heaps, dead as ducks.

He followed the scent of barbecue.

“Wow, these do look good,” he murmured, eyeing the meat currently smoking on the grill.

“Oh yeah?” a dark, grainy voice answered.

Steve looked up into the pale blue eyes of James Barnes.

“Oh, uh, hey,” Steve stammered. 

Barnes eyed him, then snipped the metal tongs loudly. “You want something rare? Well-done?”

Steve wondered if that was weird innuendo, but it was too stupid-sounding, even to his own hopeful ears.

“Sure,” he chewed his lip. “You got any medium-rare steak?”

Barnes grunted and flipped over one of the bigger pieces. “This.”

“That looks fine to me,” Steve nodded, grabbing at a fresh paper plate.

“You like it thick? Hot?” Barnes murmured.

Steve swallowed, his eyes coming up to meet Barnes’. “Uh.”

Barnes smirked devilishly then, and flipped the piece of steak over onto the cutting board beside him. He expertly cut up the chunk into manageable portions before scooping the lot onto Steve’s plate.

“You asshole,” Steve grumbled. “Fuckin’ teasing me.” He kept his voice low.

Barnes’ lip quirked upwards and _hell_ , it kind of made Steve’s heart melt a little.

“Don’t know what you mean, _officer.”_

Steve scowled at him and moved away, grateful that no one heard that exchange.

 

* * *

They’d figured maybe the tip was wrong, that maybe Pierce and his gang hadn’t come back just yet.

So the week that followed, Steve had his own team prepare anyway. He wasn’t so sure that the local drug lord couldn’t keep his sticky, disgusting fingers away.

Steve should have been paying attention, damnit.

“All units,” he barked into the radio, “We’ve got a two-oh-seven in progress. One America Chavez. Being held on Ellington. Six-eighty-two, unit three. Five-foot ten, latino, curly brown hair, red and white t-shirt, pale denim jeans, white sneakers.”

Sam pulled the car out of the lot and hit the siren and lights.

“Suspect is one Alexander Pierce. Five-ten, caucasian male, grey hair…”

“Axe to grind,” Sam bit out, roaring out onto the main drag.

They raced over so many intersections, it almost made one long blur through the windshield.

“Son of a bitch!” Steve slammed the radio down. “I knew that asshole was hiding somewhere.”

“But in old Mrs. Chavez’ place? That woman’s got dementia.”

“Exactly,” Steve ground out, wishing he’d been more vigilant.

They came skidding round onto Ellington and was met by a mob of people.

“Steve! Steve!” Kate came running over, black hair a mess, in her pyjamas still. “They got her! America! You gotta do something!”

“We’re here, we’re gonna,” Steve rolled out of the car and immediately began ordering his men into position. 

“Your vest!” Sam barked, throwing kevlar at Steve’s head.

He strapped it on, but was distracted by the crowd.

“Everyone!” he yelled, “We're gonna need you to stand clear! The suspect is armed and dangerous and has absolutely no problem with hurting anyone who gets in his way!”

“Sam,” Steve turned, “Go talk to his cronies, the ones that didn’t get out in time.”

“Got it,” Sam nodded and ran off down the dark street.

They had the whole block covered, with people ordered to stay away.

“This is bullshit!” Someone yelled from within the crowd. “Do something!”

Steve ground his teeth and kept conferring with his team, reporting back to control when needed.

He walked down the length of Ellington.

The whole place was surrounded. There was no way Pierce was getting out.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. Poor America.

He came to a stop, hands on hips and surveyed the area. The flashing lights lit the place up eerily, but it was still dark enough for shit to go down.

“He’s using her as a hostage,” a dark voice came from behind him. It was Barnes, coming down his front steps. He eyed Steve. “Isn’t he?”

Steve nodded quickly, not really in a place to share info like this. “Let’s hope so.”

Barnes was frowning so deep, the furrow was surely going to set permanently between his brows.

“Or else she’s a human shield?” he murmured.

Steve sighed. “Yes. Damnit.”

Barnes grunted and walked back inside.

Steve wondered if this really was going to turn out okay. Fuck, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anyone, least of all America, got hurt.

He blinked when Barnes brushed past him again.

“Hey,” Steve jolted, noticing the way Barnes was striding malevolently down the sidewalk, a lead pipe over his shoulder. “Hey! Barnes!”

“If you ain’t doing anything, I will,” Barnes bit out.

“Jesus, _Fuck_ ,” Steve grunted and yanked the man back by the scruff of his black t-shirt. “You can’t go in there! This is police business. He’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out!” Steve’s eyes were dark, sharp and pissed.

Barnes shrugged him off.

“She’s sixteen, Rogers.” His jaw was set.

Steve clenched his own jaw. “Yeah, I know. But what good’s it gonna do for you to go crashing in there like some hare-brained idiot?”

Barnes stared at him. Then he looked askance. “Who says I’m going though the front door?”

Steve looked at him steadily.

“Okay,” Steve mumured. “What are you thinking?”

 

* * *

“Here’s to Captain Rogers!” Billy’s father yelled, raising a glass at ol’Grady’s bar. “For saving our young, miss America from the clutches of evil!”

A raucous cry went up and Steve wanted to melt into the pleather seat.

Everyone threw back their booze and clapped loudly.

“Come on,” Steve said, hands up. “It wasn’t just me. It’s not like that.”

“Aw, c’mon, Cap!” Sam grinned, clapping loudly. “You done good!”

“No, but,” Steve waned, looking over at another man sitting at the bar. “Barnes helped. He did so much. He helped, and without his–“

“Aw, now, _officer_ ,” Barnes raised his voice and grinned. “Don’t be shy. The good ol’ boys in blue did something right for once. Embrace it.”

He dragged at his beer and winked at Steve slyly, which only made Steve flush a deep crimson.

 

* * *

“I know what you’re doing,” Steve hissed at Barnes later, in the men’s restroom. Barnes turned and watched Steve click the door lock. He raised a brow.

“What am I doing?” James Barnes murmured, leaning back against the sink, arms folded tight under his leather jacket.

“You,” Steve fumed and pointed a finger. “You did all the saving. You knew the way in from that side alley. You knew about the false door. You should be getting the credit.”

Barnes shrugged, “Don’t worry about it. Pierce’s ass is gonna be spending a lot more time in super max, so all’s good.”

Steve stepped forward with purpose, hands in fists on his uniformed hips. Bucky looked him over lazily. Steve scowled, “You’re just doing this so the police get the credit and we get to what? Have more presence in the neighbourhood? So folks’ll trust us more?”

Barnes shrugged.

Steve fumed. “That’s so stupid!”

“Is it?” Barnes raised both brows this time. “doesn’t that make your life easier?”

Steve pouted angrily, then turned away.

“It’s not about making my life easier. It’s about giving credit where it’s _due_.”

He heard Barnes move.

“I’ll give you credit,” the man rumbled, close behind Steve. Two large hands settled on Steve’s butt and he gasped, twisting.

“Your ass looks fucking amazing in those pants,” Barnes murmured.

Steve floundered as Barnes pushed him slowly, back against the tiled wall.

“I thought you weren’t interested anymore?” Steve huffed, confused and off kilter.

Barnes shrugged again and looped two fingers from each hand under Steve’s belt. He tugged Steve closer and Steve’s dick jumped.

“Well, you are a hero now, you know. I can’t really help myself,” Barnes smiled slyly, showing off those white teeth of his. “Wanna head to my place?”

“Oh, _yes,_ ” Steve gasped, brain already on the fritz at such a suggestion.

 

* * *

“Jesus!” Steve breathed out, his voice deeper somehow. “Fuck me. _Harder_.”

Bucky grunted, and shoved himself deeper, hips shaking.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, watching Steve roll his hips beneath him. “You are so high, _ugh_ , maintenance.”

“You’re the one–one on the fucking floor. We  ain’t– _unh–_ even on the rug.” Steve licked his lips and tugged at Bucky’s hips. “You like it, d-dont’ you?” He smiled then, all wet lips and heaving chest. A set of tits to die for and Bucky was here, fucking the stupid kid he’d lived down the street from him all those years ago. The kid who grew up to be a goddamn cop, of all things. In _this_ neighbourhood!

“You self-righteous punk,” Bucky gasped and leaned in for a kiss. “You’re gonna get skinburn.”

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed and groped at Bucky’s butt. “The _ass_ on you.” He tugged Bucky closer.

Bucky kissed him deep, all tongue, then he shifted his hips, changed the angle, and Steve gasped, or squeaked, however you put it.

“Fuck,” Steve huffed, head falling back. “The way you clocked him with that pipe. Oh, my _god_.”

Bucky grunted as his own dick twitched inside Steve. He was so close now. But he had to keep it up. No failing now, Barnes.

“You k-kidding me?” Bucky breathed. “I didn’t even know you could fight like that. Tae Kwon Do?”

“Mixed _unh_ –mixed martial arts,” Steve choked out, shuddering suddenly.

“Oh, you close, baby?” Bucky asked, wrapping an arm under Steve’s back. He thrust sharply into Steve in smaller bursts. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Steve winced, face all flushed and pink and sweet.

“So fucking pretty,” Bucky gasped, hips thrusting faster, harder. “In your tight little uniform and your big dumb baby blues, and your legs all spread out for me.”

“Unh!” Steve clenched down so hard Bucky saw stars and he came so hard, he thought he might actually black out.

 

* * *

“Hi _Steve_ ,” Mrs. Marsden waved at him, her _husband_ right beside her.

Sam shook his head. 

“Finally,” Natasha cried from her own porch. She ran back inside. Steve and Sam looked at one another. Natasha reappeared momentarily with a white box in her hands. “Clint baked you a cake. Chocolate raspberry.”

“Oh, sweet,” Sam said, taking the gift. Then he paused. “This is not a bribe, ma’am,” he uttered clearly, with authority.

Natasha smiled. “Not at all, officer. Just saying thank you to the boys in blue, is all.”

“And that’s all?” Sam squinted at her warily.

She raised both palms. “Honest to God.”

He nodded and turned, only to find Steve staring across the street.

“Oh, the Barnes house is coming along nice, huh?” Sam said.

“Uh,” Steve blinked at him owlishly, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go say hi.” and he bounded down the stairs like Sam had suggested it.

 

“You did an amazing job, guys,” Steve said, after getting a firm hug from America, a new staple of his cop diet.

The house was looking _so_ good, with the new white siding and a fresh lick of paint on the front door.

“Not bad, huh?” Kate said, standing. “We’re gonna finish up the back, then maybe get to the roof.”

Steve’s brows rose. “Ambitious,” he murmured and looked up at the roof, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sunshine.

“Ambitious is my middle name,” a familiar voice cut in.

Steve grinned at Bucky Barnes. “I thought it was Buchanan?”

“ _Buchanan?!”_ the teenagers all squealed and Bucky scowled madly at Steve.

“Now look what you did. You broke ‘em,” he waved an arm at the wailing teenagers.

“Sorry,” Steve scuffed his boot over the sidewalk.

Sam was there too, which everyone seemed to forget and he glanced between the two men, cake box still in his hands. The way Barnes was smirking, the pink flush high on Steve's cheeks...  “Holy Lord in Heaven,” he breathed out slowly, eyes widening.

Steve turned and saw the look in his eyes.  “Wait, Sam,” he started before his partner busted out laughing. Steve frowned as Sam  laughed and laughed and _laughed_ like he’d just discovered the stupidest knock-knock joke in the history of the universe and Steve was the punchline.

While the others stared at him in surprised shock, Steve covered his eyes with a hand and muttered, “Oh, _shit_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any commentary or kudos are always appreciated. Hope you enjoyed this fluffy garbage. ( ﾉ^ω^)ﾉﾟ


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